Redemption
by criesofthefallen
Summary: He cheated, so his little one left. not knowing what to do he falls onto a destructive path. depression, possible suicide. follow him on his path to redemption as Lucius Malfoy tries to earn Harry's forgiveness.
1. A Year

**Warning: **Slash, suicide attempt, possible character death, and violence

**Disclaimer: **Situations and characters do not belong to me. All I own is new characters and plot.

He stared up at the ceiling blankly. Thinking. Remembering. Missing. He was a fool, this much he knew. How else could he explain this loss? He had been cocky, arrogant, confident he would never leave him. But he was wrong. After all his lovers it had been hard to stick to one, but he made it easier. He had sworn never to cheat on his little one ,and failed.

It had been months since he'd last had him, seen him, held him. It had been months since his last lover. He didn't know what he should do. What he should say. Scenario over scenario raced through his mind, all ending in the same way. He ended up alone, without him there. He was dying. He needed Harry like he needed air.

Suffocating.

This silence, this room, this house no longer a home. All suffocating him with memories of what was. Malfoy Manor once more felt bleak, lifeless, _cold._ Like his heart. He'd written millions of letters, found himself besides the fireplace, ready to go to him. But not a single letter was delivered. Not once had he thrown the floo powder in.

'I can't believe…how could you Lucius? Those words. They echoed through the silent manor, his mind, his heart. Over and over again stabs to the heart, hearing, remembering those beautiful-lively, emerald eyes always dancing, in that moment filled with so much pain, betrayal. But those two couldn't bring guilt and pain to his being as the last could. Despite everything, _love. _Despite everything, Harry stilled loved him, Lucius.

How?

How? Could he love someone as undeserving as him? Someone so kind, beautiful, _loyal,_ love a worthless piece of scum like him? He couldn't understand. It just hurt all the more. Made him feel all the worse. More and more like the scum he was.

So he drank.

And drank.

And drank until he was one with the memories of him, of his love, of his Harry. How late he came to realize how he truly did love him, loved him like no other. 'Too late,' he thought despairingly, 'Too late.' the glass he was drinking from shattered from the pressure oh his hand holding it too tightly.

He watched, _fascinated_. Watched the crystal shards throw a rainbow of light across the dark room. Cast by the shards' receiving the few rays of the sun penetrating the covered windows. He preferred the dark, to fit his heart. The fire from the fireplace in his study cast a warm glow on the shard. Enticing.

A year.

A year since he had last seen his little one. A year since he had felt anything but an all consuming numbness. Cold. A year since he'd seen another living person, being. The house-elves knew well to stay out of his way. A year.

A year.

He picked a particularly large shard and stared at it in wonder.

Watched the light bounce off the glass.

And dragged it across his arm, from his wrist to his elbow.

Beautiful.

The crimson blood soaked into the expensive leather, Persian arm-chair; he caring very little about it.

Not caring at all.

"Harry…" he whispered.

Lucius Malfoy closed his eyes. A smile on his lips for the first time in a year.


	2. A Year Prior

Chap. 2

1 year prior

Numb.

He stared at the door that hid his lover and his lovers' whore from him with a vague sense of numbness. He couldn't believe how stupid he had been. Hadn't everyone warned him this would happen? Like the fool he was, he had fallen for playboy extraordinaire. He had thought that Lucius loved him, loved him just as fiercely and deeply as he loved him. But he was wrong, _he was wrong_…

Detached, that was how he felt. Beneath this sense of detachment he felt pain, anger, and deep seated betrayal. Who could blame him? Laughing mirthlessly, he thought, everyone, _everyone _could blame him. for what? For being the fool that he was in thinking that he could possibly change the man that Lucius Malfoy truly was. He had been an idiot, believing and trying so hard to create something that was never there. All those times he'd made up excuses for why Lucius wasn't there, for why he missed so many important dates, and for why, for the past few weeks Lucius was barely even home. Excuses, unbelieving and pathetic as they were, he had told himself that they were true.

Denial, he had been utterly and completely sinking in denial. He had seen all the signs, all the evidence. Still he had refused to believe that Lucius, who had promised to love him, and cherish him, and be _loyal_to him all the days of their lives. Sweet, sweet Lucius. How could he have ever been so blind? Had he been _that_ desperate for love, and affection? For family? Crying harder he slid to the floor, blindly he hugged his himself. Arms wrapped around his waist, protecting the small light that was just beginning to glow. He would protect his little light and himself. No more. He refused to let anyone hurt him anymore.

Standing he wiped the tears from his face and set his face in stone. Glancing at his reflection in the mirror he cast a spell, erasing all traces of his grief. Pushing the doors to the Master bedroom open, he gave a small smile as they slammed against the wall. He watched with great satisfaction as Lucius sprang away from his whore and looked at him, silver-gray eyes frozen in shock. He spared them both a glance, a smirk dancing on his slips as the whore shamefully tried to cover himself. Walking towards the closet he spelled all his things to him and then to a bottomless bag. Lucius, finally getting over his shock, jumped out of the bed and tried to speak. " Harry, I.." he began. He turned and stared.

The look in his eyes was dead, cold. A look that most certainly did_ not_ belong on his cheerful, happy face. Lucius looked at him, regret written across his features. He looked away, unable to meet his gaze any longer. Taking his bags he walked out of the door. He didn't look back, didn't answer to any of the desperate calls that came from Lucius' mouth. He simply walked out into the hall and out the Malfoy manor. He came to the apparition point and taking one last look at what had been his home for the last three years, he apparated before he broke down.

Standing in front of the Maraunder's Pad, he knocked and casually asked the house elf for Sirius or Remus. The house elf led him to the living room and he stood by the fireplace, bags having been abandoned by the boor. " Doesn't your godfather get a hug?" Sirius asked in a teasing tone. Turning, he looked at the smirking Sirius with his arms wrapped around a very pregnant Remus, and _he broke down…_

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Hey! How's it going? Hope you guys enjoyed chapter two of this story and THANK YOU for waiting so long and so patiently for my update. I know I took a long time (and if I'm honest it'll be a while before chap.3)but I've been busy. Now, I could update more often and give you nothing but shit to read, or I could work at a snail's pace and give you something decent to work with? Let me know which you prefer…

Honestly, I used to get so annoyed when an author wouldn't update quickly, but now I understand how little time there is to write and post stuff up! Any other author will agree. Now, I really, really need a BETA reader. Anyone interested? Let me know if you are…and thanx again for the support.

someone asked how I'm going about updating all my stories and its simple…most reviews get priority. _hinhthint_

Thanks again!

CRIESOFTHEFALLEN


	3. Lost

Disclaimer: I own nothing, sadly.

Warning: Slash, Mpreg, and OCCness

Author: CRIESOFTHEFALLEN

He stared up at the ceiling, vaguely noticing it was white. He couldn't remember how he got there. Hell, he couldn't even remember who he was. It was frustrating, and all these simple, undermining people poking, and prodding him did little to help his mood. It took a lot of effort to keep himself from cursing them into oblivion. Strangely enough he could remember spells and all those things, and he could even remember a son. He had a son. His name was Draco. Yet he couldn't remember anything past that. It was highly unusual his doctors said. Suicide , or more accurately , attempted suicide never resulted in memory loss. Honestly, he agreed. Besides, he felt fine, why would he attempt suicide? That was insane, and he was not insane. Not yet at least, but if _one more _medi-witch touched him he would…

"Father, are you alright?" his head whipped around to the owner of the voice. Draco, his son. Smiling, or trying to, he looked at his son. His jaw hurt from the effort, giving him the feeling he hadn't smiled in a while. That made him wonder if he really had been as fine as he felt and his son assured him he was. He had the nagging feeling he was forgetting something important, something he could say was in fact of great importance, yet for the life of him… "Father?" Draco asked worriedly. Snapping to attention he gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but by the look on his son's face he could tell he hadn't been extremely successful.

"I'm fine. I was simply thinking of a few things," he said. Sitting up, he studied his son. He was tall, in his twenties, and had the same silver-gray eyes he did. He had a good built, and he was sure he had no trouble with the ladies, or men. He was proud of him, he could draw that much from the puddle that was his memory. Feelings, it seemed, was all he could draw from memory. Oh, _he tried_, but nothing worked. All he got was a migraine from the force of his efforts. The doctor had said something about remembering in time, when he was _ ready._ He said his subconscious was keeping his memories locked away until a time in which he would be able to handle them. This more that anything confirmed the fact that everyone was keeping something from him. If that hadn't been enough clue, all the looks he got were more than enough hint. The looks varied from pity, to anger, to disappointment(from failing at killing himself?), to mocking. He couldn't understand what meaning was carried beneath those looks. He had a feeling he would have known what those looks meant at one point in his life before the memory loss, but he could put one look from the other. At least not without great effort. He was determined to find out the reason for all the looks and Draco's worry.

He looked up startled when he realized his son was at the other side of the room with his doctor. They were deep in discussion, most likely about how she should be treated now that he was deemed healthy and able to return to his own manor. A manor. He was rich, and powerful. He honestly wouldn't have thought that when he woke up, as he had been treated like any other person, like a normal person. It wasn't a bad feeling, but it _was _different. He was going home today. Home. Now that word sounded strange and alien to him, though he was unsure of the why behind that sentiment. Confused. He knew, or at least he thought, he loved his son. So why did he feel the need to panic every time he thought about going home? He simply couldn't work out any logical reason within his realm of understanding. Standing as he saw his son coming towards him, he allowed his son to lead him to the fireplace. Standing in front of the emerald fire, something inside him _hurt. _Emerald. That certain shade, that color _meant _something to him. He paused and stared, transfixed as he watched the emerald fire lick at the surrounding stones.

'_You have the most unique eyes. So… beautiful.'_

'_Beautiful? I thought you said I had __** commoners**__ eyes?' _

' _Did I ? Well then, it __**must**__ be true.'_

That voice was like honey, silk, velvet. It had been teasing, and loving. Now more than ever he _needed _to remember. He snapped out of his trance as he heard his name being called. Brushing off his sons worried questions, he stepped into the fire calling out, " Malfoy Manor!" he opened his eyes and found himself in an elegant, and undeniably beautiful study. He automatically knew it was his. Walking around, he familiarized himself with it once more and stopped when he came onto an overturned picture frame. The frame was made of fine wood, he noted vaguely and began to turn it around. "Father, come, you must be tired. Let me take you to your room," said Draco. Nodding, he placed the frame back down and followed his son out the study. He would look at the frame later and see of that would trigger any flashbacks, like the one before he entered the fireplace. Emerald. That meant something. It was important. It had to be. Why else would that have caused the sudden flashback? He pondered about this for some time. He barely noticed when his son bid him a good night and excused himself with a promise of returning to the manor the next morning. He had simply nodded and did the same, expressing his delight in having his son for breakfast. He had a feeling that didn't happen often.

Changing into his sleeping clothes, he lay in his bed. It was huge, it was soft, it made his stomach sick. He felt ashamed, guilty, depressed, as he lay in this bed. Making up his mind he called for a house elf and asked to have a different room prepared. He was led to a room on a separate wing. Somehow that room felt right. The bed heavenly. And then he fell into a troubled sleep, his dreams turning to night mares as his memories came to haunt him. He woke at midnight, drenched in sweat. The name, Harry, on his lips. He pondered on this for maybe an hour, before exhaustion lulled him into the land of dreams.

He would not remember any of his dreams, much less the name that tugged at his heart, making it ache and bleed with wounds he had never even known existed, or remembered that did, once more. All he would remember would be the haunting emerald eyes that looked at him with such hurt, sadness, and utter betrayal. He would ask his son, if he knew the owner of said eyes and be denied the knowledge. He would search for weeks and come up empty handed. That is until he came across a man with similar eyes, and a child, a beautiful child. It would only be a momentary glimpse, a look shared between them, he pausing in the middle of the alley, shacking his head, _wondering _if it had just been a figment of his imagination. He would look for that man for years, five to be exact, and finally find him. His name? _Hadrian James Potter._

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IMPORTANT PLEASE READ!!!

Again, some people have been asking me about my other stories, and let me say this, I have not abandoned them and so far none of my stories are finished. This makes me think no one bothers to read the authors note, read them because occasionally there is something worth reading it for. Thank you to all my awesome reviewers. And hope you enjoy the new chapter. I know I'm updating only this one lately, but as I said before, I want to write crap about as much as you want to read it. Give me time so that maybe my muse comes knocking at my door and I can get on with it. That said, thank you again for reading and all your support.


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